


Living the Dream

by Raccoonfg



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Guilt, Police
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-19 05:07:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13697502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raccoonfg/pseuds/Raccoonfg
Summary: How far would you go to keep the dream alive?





	Living the Dream

**Author's Note:**

> The following short story was written for /trash/'s Thematic Thursday event; Sleepyheads (02/15/18)

“Now listen and listen good because I’m only going to tell you this once, you understand? You might think that you’re coming into this academy like some hot new statement at the world because you’re the first of your kind to get in and you’re destined for greatness or something, but you’re not. Okay?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

“You just barely passed the written portion of the entrance exam - just enough - and only by the grace of God did our doctors pass you on the physical, so you are already hanging on by a very thin strand of fur, are we clear?”

“Y-yes, s-sir.”

“Now I can already tell by your physical attributes and shortcomings that these next few months of rigorous, back-breaking, paws-on training will show us whether or not you can really make the grade or have just been wasting our damned time, so I expect no half-assedness. Are we clear?”

“S-sir, yes sir!”

The large figure of the barking wolf loomed menacingly over the wilting cadet, casting a shadow of doom and failure across the scared recruit’s face. After a few seething moments of glaring out from under the baseball cap that bore the crest of the Zootopia Police Academy, a single sharp claw jutted out towards the fresh meat’s brow.

“And one more thing, Grey,” the instructor snarled as he waved his talon dismissively at the corn-fed fox, “we expect all trainees to adhere to the ZPD dress code, including fur length. Which means whatever THIS is,” he enunciated while his black lips curled in disgust and his paw gesticulated ever more exaggeratedly at the parted fringe of fur on top of Gideon’s scalp, “has to be trimmed off by the end of this week. And I don’t want to hear any ‘religious exception’ crap. I get enough out of it from the lions and their Safarianism mumbo jumbo.”

Struggling the urge to self-consciously pat at his offending bangs, Gideon could only manage to hoarsely repeat yet another weak-willed “yes, sir.”

The dressing down was bad enough - expected, even, given his circumstances - but for it to happen in the middle of his assigned bunking quarters, right when him and all of the other recruits were just unpacking on their first day? There’s ‘putting the wrong foot forward’ and then there’s having someone yank you by the heels into the biggest mud puddles of bad first impressions. With a quick glance around the room in between weathering the onslaught of pre-emptive scolding mixed with flecks of hot wolf drool, Gideon could see that no one was looking their way or acknowledging the brow-beating, but that didn’t mean they weren’t all listening.

Finally satisfied in putting the poor little fox in his place, the instructor huffed and marched out, barking “lights out in five” over his shoulder. The very room itself seemed to breathe a sigh of relief in his passing.

“Damn, Grey,” whistled a panther who was setting up on the bunk next to Gideon’s, “he really let into you, huh?”

Gideon gave a half-hearted laugh while he pulled his duffle bag onto his bed and started unpacking. “Jes’ tryin’ to motivate me, s’all…”

“Motivating?” a brown wolf scoffed from three bunks over, barely hiding his eavesdropping. “If you call that motivation, then what Friedkin’ll have in store for you will be like a lightning rod up your ass. Buddy of mine went through the academy last year and he still has night terrors about polar bears dressed as the Grim Reaper.”

Gideon would have been knocking his knees at the prospect of things getting worse, but the fact that everyone else was yukking it up about it gave him some sense of ease. Like they were all in it together.

Sorting through the contents of his duffle bag, Gideon removed his change of clothes and stuffed them into the empty drawer of the nightstand next to his bed. After folding and tucking everything neatly in and sliding it shut, he proceeded to place some odds and ends on the stand’s top; a dog-eared copy of the ZPD guidebook, a fur-brush - that he longingly sighed at, knowing that it would be getting far less use these days - and a fist-sized stone that he sat on the corner closest to his bed.

“Aw man,” his new neighbor cheerfully exclaimed from behind him, causing Gideon to jerk around and witness the panther rudely digging through the remainders of his open duffle bag. “Grey, I thought you were all ‘farm fresh’ and wholesome, but you got quite the supply of magazines in here.” Swishing his tail excitedly, he flashed him a toothy grin. “Boy, you dirty.”

Not quite sure of if it was more important to be appalled or embarrassed, Gideon ended up defaulting on simply being flustered.

“Uh, well, that is…”

“It’s all good. We’re grown mammals,” the panther smoothly reassured him as he pulled out a few samples of Gideon’s stash. “But I’m gonna have to ask you a favor in advance, cause training can get lonely and I’d sure appreciate some personal time with--”

His chattering stopped the moment he got a good eyeful of the top magazine’s cover. He glanced at Gideon and then back to the magazines, flipping through each one before looking back at the fox with incredulous disappointment.

“…Better Dens and Burrows?”

“I-it’s not what you think,” Gideon grimaced. “I only read ‘em for the recipes.”

“Hey man, no judgment,” he said with a shrug and an empathetic smile. “It’s twenty-sixteen. Nothing wrong with a cop being into interior decorating and centerpieces.”

“W-well now really it’s jes’ for the--”

“I got you. I got you. Just busting your hump a little.” And with that, he lightly tossed the magazines onto Gideon’s nightstand, only to accidentally knock everything else off. The guidebook flopped in one direction and the brush clattered in the other, while the rock landed safely in Gideon’s quick grasp.

“Ah, damn. Sorry Grey,” the panther sighed. “I’m not making this any better for you, huh?”

Cradling the stone in his paws, Gideon gave him a light smile.

“Like you said. It’s all good. A-accidents h-happen.” Giving a little cough to try and cover up the involuntary stutter, Gideon returned the rock to its resting place and proceeded to straighten the stack of magazines before scooping up the guidebook and setting it on top of the pile.

“So, uh, is that your pet rock or something?”

Gideon paused, his grasp still hovering over the wayward brush that lay on the floor.

“More of a keepsake, actually,” he flatly replied - free of any stammering - and then he scooped up the brush and added it to the nightstand’s clutter.

“Alright you donut holes, lights out!”

Everyone scrambled into action at the instructor’s final warning, kicking off their training wear and burrowing themselves under their blankets in a mad dash to avoid the sort of tongue-lashing that their fellow cadet had just suffered. Gideon himself had only just managed to get his stocky figure under the sheets before the lights all snapped off, casting the room in darkness.

There were no further words or small talk with the others that night, only the uncomfortable silence of a roomful of strangers trying to fall asleep in the company of each other.

Except for Gideon, who looked at the stone’s silhouette for a moment before closing his eyes and saying “good night” to no one in particular.

 

* * *

 

“Jeez. I always knew you foxes were crooks, but this really takes the cake. Eighty-five bucks for stopping to run into the store?”

“Now, I am awful sorry that this had to happen to you, but ya’ll gotta understand that you still parked it in a ‘no parking’ spot. Engine idle or not. If’n you want, you can jes’ talk it over in traffic court an’ maybe the judge’ll see it your way--”

“Whatever. Save it,” grumbled the surly tapir as he snatched the parking ticket from Gideon’s outstretched paw, stormed off into his car and slammed the driver-side door while muttering “dumb hick” before speeding off.

Gideon barely covered his muzzle in time to avoid the stinging sensation of the exhaust fumes and was left coughing in the kicked up dust, waving his electronic ticket dispenser at the debris.

His first day on the force wasn’t exactly how he expected it to be. He had figured it was going to be mostly desk work and duties around the precinct. Simple stuff. Never in his wildest imagination did he think that he’d already be put out in the field issuing tickets like this.

All he could think was that the chief really did see some potential in him to give him an important job like parking duty right off the bat.

Shame that most folks he was encountering on the streets didn’t seem to appreciate him half as much as his boss did.

“Well,” Gideon muttered to himself, “chicken don’t come out of the coop fried.”

“Excuse me, officer?”

Stowing his ticket machine into his belt, Gideon’s ears perked up at the sudden voice, leading him to cock his snout around in search of where it came from. After a full spin of his burly hips, he spotted a lanky fox down the street, flagging him over.

“Yes, officer, over here!”

Curiously, Gideon ambled his way down the block towards the waving fox, scratching the short fur under his cap as he tried to sort out what all the commotion was. The guy was wearing some kind of hideous floral shirt. Could be some sort of tourist in need of directions. Possibly on a business trip, given the necktie.

“Oh thank you, officer,” the fox sighed in relief. “I could really use a paw right now.”

“Sure. Sure,” Gideon nodded. “What’s all the fuss about, Mr..?”

“Well it’s funny, really,” chuckled the fox; completely dancing around Gideon’s attempt at introductions. “I was just filling up the parking meter here, as any upstanding motorist would do, and- well,” he snickered again and exaggeratedly slapped the side of his head, “goofball that I am, I accidentally dropped my keys under my car. Heh. Would you believe it?”

“That does sound like a real pickle,” Gideon replied, sucking his teeth.

“The whole jar of dill,” he nodded back. “Now normally I’d just swooce right in there and fish them out, but gosh darn it I put my back out the other day volunteering at the homeless shelter and can’t bend an inch.”

As if on cue, the fox sharply jerked his hips to the side and started rubbing his lower back with a pained look on his face.

“Ouch. Anyway, what I’m asking is if you would be a pillar of the community and a credit to the vulpine race by helping a poor single father out?”

“Well I s‘pose it’s my job to help the community anyway,” Gideon mused with a gentle shrug. “Alright, let’s see where they got to…”

Sucking in his gut, he got down on all fours and shuffled towards the gap between the car and the pavement to stick his head into the shadowy crevice.

“You’re a fine mammal, officer,” the fox cheered him from up above. “Foxes like us should always look out for each other.”

Peering into the dirty, oil-stained space that lurked below the vehicle’s underside, Gideon could only glean the odd scattered debris of cigarette butts and discarded BugBurga wrappers, but no keys of any sort.

“Hey, ah, are your keys on some kinda doodad or, uh, lariat or sum’thin’,” Gideon asked as he struggled to shift his body around to survey the asphalt, “cause I’m havin’ a hard time spottin’ the buggers.”

Oddly, no response came back.

“…Sir?”

With a cautious swish of his tail, Gideon came to the realization that no one else was standing on the sidewalk. Quickly, he retracted from below, yanking his head out like a cork from a bottle, and managed to get to his feet in time to see the once desperate fox halfway down the block, where he was just heading into a side alley.

“Hey, Mister!” Gideon called out at the seemingly oblivious pedestrian.

“Oh, yeah, uh, false alarm,” the fox shouted back, still heading into the alley. “I just remembered, I left my keys at home. Thanks anyway!”

Gideon scrunched up his snout and scratched the side of his head in confusion, muttering “Now what in the Sam Hill?”

All he could figure was that maybe the city was more full of crazies than he realized. That or the fellah just wanted a gander at his tail-end. So with a disappointed click of his tongue, Gideon turned to walk the other way.

And then he stopped.

His uniform may have been new and he wasn’t sporting his favorite pair of faded dungarees, but if there was one thing Gideon was sure of it was that he knew the contents of his britches like the back of his paw, and right now they were feeling a little light in the pocket.

His wallet was missing.

“That sum’bitch.”

Back at the academy, there were a number of things that Gideon Grey struggled at. Proper takedown of a suspect. Driving through obstacle courses. Reciting penal codes in an articulate manner.

But the one thing he never had to try twice was running the obstacle course - much to the surprise of anyone who misjudged his weight and lack of grace.

This was something his sticky-fingered friend also mistakenly assumed and was left quite surprised when suddenly face-to-face with the glowering parking officer.

“Oh, hey there, officer,” the fox warily greeted with a feigned cheerfulness. “Fancy seeing you so soo--”

“You thievin’ cheat,” snarled Gideon. “I try to help you out an’ you go an’ steal my wallet?!”

Clutching the billfold that was still in his paw, the fox gave him an unconvincing look of innocence. “I think you’re mistaken, officer. We must have similar ones by coincidence.”

“Do we?”

“Clearly.”

“Both paw-made. Out of duct tape.”

“Uh,” the fox nervously glanced at it to confirm the damning detail. “Y-yup.”

“With the initials G.G. written in the lower right corner. With fold-out pictures of my Ma, Pa, Gram, Gramp an’ blood brother Travis.”

“Er…” Hastily cramming the accordion-like series of wallet-sized photos back inside, the fox stretched his false grin wider and tossed it into Gideon’s open paws. “Looks like that’s whoopsie number threesi for me today. I swear, if you didn’t catch me when you did I would have come home with some egg on my face, lemme tell you.”

“It’s bad enough yer settin’ a rotten example for your kit, mister,” Gideon grumbled as he shoved his wallet back into its rightful place. “But to keep lyin’ to my face when I have you all figger’d out… You must really think I jes’ fell off’a the turnip truck or sum’thin’.”

“No.” The insincere smile suddenly faded from the fox’s face and his eyes took a flat, contemptuous glower. “I think you fell off the turnip truck, took a tumble through the hayseed and landed face first into the bumpkin patch.”

“W-well, I-I, uh, have half a mind to a-arrest you.” All of a sudden, Gideon’s resolve began to falter.

“I sincerely doubt both parts of that sentence. What’re you gonna do, Hoss?” The fox smugly smirked and crossed his arms as he straightened up to his full height, well over Gideon’s eye-line. “Lasso me with your ticket roll? Just because I was being flattering by calling you ‘officer’ doesn’t mean you’re anything more than a meter-reader with a golf cart.”

“I-I am a real c-cop…”

“If that’s what they told you then you’re more gullible than I thought.” The fox snorted derisively at him. “A fox cop. That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard.”

Gideon couldn’t bring himself to say anything back. He only stood there - trembling - with his paws balled up into fists and his lips tightly shut.

“Listen, since you were naive enough to do me a ‘favor’, I’ll do you a solid as well by giving you a piece of advice.” He then jabbed Gideon sharply in the shoulder with each following sentence. “Give up. Go home. Get a clue.”

Still standing there in tense silence, Gideon barely flinched at the cruel prodding. His gaze cast downwards, avoiding eye contact, and the nervous shuddering of his body started to disrupt his breathing into an erratic pace. Emotions from his childhood that he long tried to forget came bubbling back up in the face of this unwarranted bullying.

It was like tearing a scab that barely healed.

A new cavity in a filled tooth.

A stumble after the fall.

“You might have gotten by on gumption and following your heart, but in the real world thick-headed rubes like you only get chewed up and spat out, capiche?”

But the worst feeling of all was pitted deep down inside, barely suppressed by the boiling anger.

The reckless urge to raise his paws and push him to the ground, damning all consequences.

It made him feel sick.

“Listen, the sooner you give up on your dreams, the better--”

“H-hey!”

The fox immediately ceased in his beratement, caught off guard by the sudden snap. By the wet glare in Gideon’s eyes, something had cut him deep.

“Y-you can’t go talkin’ to me ‘bout givin’ up my dreams like that! You d-don’t even know me!”

“Maybe,” the fox calmly replied, already shaking off Gideon’s spirited rebuttal.

Then, like a magician pulling off a simple trick, he produced a small paper card and casually glanced at it. The sight of it was instantly familiar to Gideon.

“But what I do know is that you have a lifetime membership to the Pie of the Month Club,” he snidely noted and then carelessly tossed the membership card in Gideon’s direction. “So how about you go back to the sticks and be a baker instead.”

And with that, the pick-pocketing con-artist turned and continued on his way out of Gideon’s life, and Gideon did nothing to stop him. Whatever fight that was in him went out faster than a match in a windstorm.

He didn’t emerge from the alley and resume his duties for another good ten long minutes.

He wouldn’t give the world the satisfaction of seeing him in the state that he was in.

 

* * *

 

“No, no. It’s fine. Jes’ gettin’ dinner ready.”

“Oh yeah? What’re you having?”

“Chicken pot pie.”

“Nice. You got a kitchen in your new place?”

“Well,” Gideon drawled into the phone as he gazed through the humming window of his microwave oven, “not exactly.”

“Well, whichever way you do it, I’m glad you’re not giving up on the creature comforts of home. Hate to think of the possibility of you coming back to visit and going on about locally sourced, artisanal floopty floo.”

“Pretty sure anything ‘locally sourced’ comes from the same farms back home, Travis.”

“Yeah, I suppose so,” Travis conceded through the phone’s tiny speaker. “Anyway, are you sure I won’t be keeping you from your supper?”

“Naw, I always got time for ya’. You know that.”

Before the shrill beep of the microwave timer sounded off, Gideon popped open the door and carefully retrieved his meal.

“‘Sides, I can always jes’ heat it back up if need be.”

“You sure?”

Gideon’s fork barely made it past the mushy, undercooked crust before it suddenly stopped and ricocheted off of a still-frozen piece of meat.

“I’m sure.”

“Alright then. So how was your first day as a bonafide lawman? Shake down any drug dealers? Get into a car chase?”

“Pfft. C’mon buddy,” Gideon snorted while scraping the pre-packed abomination into a trash bin, putting the sad pastry out of its misery. “The city ain’t that excitin’.”

“More exciting than selling tires all day. I can guarantee you that.”

“Fair ‘nuff.”

Tucking the phone between his chin and his shoulder, Gideon stalked over to his bed and plopped down. Exciting or not, the day was long enough and he needed rest more than dinner anyway.

“So c’mon,” Travis cheerily pleaded, “you can’t say that your first day was boring. Did they give you a badge?”

“Sure.”

“A car?”

“…Kinda.”

“A gun?”

Rolling his eyes, Gideon reached out and picked up the rock that sat on his nightstand. “You know they don’t give guns to patrol officers.”

“Whatever. Dartguns or tasers. Still pretty cool. My gun only shoots out price tags.”

“Trust me, what I got strapped to my side ain’t much better.”

“Aww, why do you have to be such a downer, Gid?” Travis groaned. “You worked hard for this. Damn hard. You earned it, alright? Against everything everyone said about you, you’ve finally made it.”

“Yeah, I did, didn’t I?” Idly fondling the stone between his paws, he flatly added “Livin’ the dream.”

There was a short and somehow audibly uncomfortable silence over the phone line.

“You, uh- You thinking of giving them a call? Letting them know what you’ve been up to?”

Gideon halted the passive handling of the stone.

“I--” Stifling a heavy sigh, he leaned over and returned the rock to its reserved spot, closest to his bed. “I don’t think they’d really wanna hear from me…”

“Listen, I know it’s hard to let go, but it’s been a long time and accidents happen-- I’m… I’m just saying that--”

“I know, Travis. I know.” It wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have, but he knew it was a hard one to avoid, so he did what he always did. “Maybe I’ll give ‘em a call sometime soon. Jes’… Not tonight. Okay?”

“Yeah, sure…”

“Say, uh, I hate to cut things short,” Gideon yawned, “but I actually do feel pretty darn tuckered out, so if it’s good with you I’m gonna get some shuteye soon.”

“Weren’t you gonna have supper?”

Peering over at the goopy mess in the trash, Gideon replied “I’ll reheat it in the mornin’. Not really that peckish right now.”

“Well okay then. Sleep tight, buddy.”

“You too, pal.”

Hanging up the phone felt a fair bit heavier than it did when he answered it.

The weight of the day’s events seemed to have really pulled him down, as even hopping off the bed felt like a dead, sluggish act.

Silently, he slowly shuffled over to his coat rack and retrieved an empty clothes hanger, which he carefully draped his uniform shirt and pants on before hooking it back up on the rack to await the following day’s work.

He was just about to snap off the solitary lamp that lit the closet-sized apartment, when he looked down at his rock and decided to head back over to his clothes.

With a little fidgeting, he unpinned his shiny new police badge from the breast of his shirt and carried it back with him to bed.

After a light click, the room was bathed in a soft blue darkness and Gideon wearily crawled under the covers.

But before he pulled his blanket over his ample body, he reached out and laid his badge against the side of the rock.

And then, for what felt like a long, endless moment, he just stared at the two of them together as they sat there basking in the gentle moonlight.

Eventually, in a sad little way, he smiled and laid his head down on his pillow, still looking at them until his eyes finally closed shut.

“Good night.”


End file.
